Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 236, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 October 1914 — WHOM SHE LOVED BEST [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

WHOM SHE LOVED BEST

By JANE BELFIELD.

"It is easy to discover which man the woman loves best" The king of the

Scarabee Islands shifted his gaze from the blue sea shining above the broad coral reef, and sneeringly regarded his latest favorite. "Bring: out the prisoners. Four—you said?** “Four were shipwrecked, olb king—the woman, a child and two men.” “And the child is hers, but she will not tell which man is her husband I" “She will not tell." The king yawned.

Not much entertainment for a white man to be captured by these savages and forced to be their chief! Twice he had attempted to escape and twice been Ignominiously retaken. According to their laws —their stupid, unchangeable laws —the third - attempt meant death. He glanced down the long rows of bamboo trees whence his half-naked negroes led forward the group of white prisoners. A woman, young and beautiful, held fast the hand of a blue-eyed boy. A tall, fair man followed between two stalwart blacks. Then another guard and another man, slight of build, dark of countenance. The king beckoned to the woman, saying: "I’m sorry for all of you—but—do you know their law?” The woman strained hopefully forward. "You are not—" “One of them? No —but lam their prisoner as much as you are. Shipwrecked —saved because I practised a little easy magic to fool them! I’m still clothed In purple and fine linen, you see.” The king of the Scarabee Islands spread out his skirt of woven grasses. i “Can you not save us?” she Implored wildly. The king shook his head. "Two of you. They do not kill women —unless by request. This is their ancient law. You may live, and the one you love best also may live. I will put you both on the first ship that passes this most detestable spot.” The woman knelt and clasped the boy. Over his head her eyes strained despairingly toward the two men who stood calmly regarding her. For an Instant the eyes of the taller left hers and lingered upon the boy’s yellow curls. Two natives with knotted clubs stepped forward. The king rose. His gaze swept the multitude of dark faces. He hesitated —no —his Interference would but change those stolid countenances to fury. "She chooses the boy,” he said. The blacks seized the tall, fair prisoner. "No!” the woman shrieked. “Nonot him! You have another law —the king’s counselor told me—you dare not refuse a life for a life! I choose the child, but I claim the right to die in place of this man.” She stretched but her hand toward the captive whose hair was golden as the boy’s. “No! ,no! Do not listen to him. Guard the prisoner! You who are chief here — 'you dare not refuse. It Is your law—your unchangeable law!" The woman whispered In the boy’s tear, and thrust his hand Into the hand of the tall, fair man, who struggled vainly with his captors In desperate protest. "Take them away! Take them away!” the king commanded. "This man and the boy are free!" The woman smiled and turned her face toward the other prisoner—slight of build, dark of countenance. The executioners bound them together. "I die,” she murmured low, "with you!" At even, the king of the Scarabee Islands listened moodily to the swish of the bamboo trees. "Which man did the woman love best, oh, king?” The king of the Scarabee Islands silently regarded his latest favorite In the glow of the moon.